The cold permeated through his fur, chilling Flash to the bone. He flew onward despite it, hesitation threatening to freeze him in place and ensure he met the same fate as his comrades.
He had seen many of the colourful corpses of his brethren as he flew deeper into the canyon. A quick count let Flash know that he was one of the few left of the fleet. It was a sobering thought, made worse by the possibility of failure, which would thus make their sacrifice pointless.
As these morbid thoughts overtook his mind, the strangest sensation coursed through his body.
Warmth.
Hope gave Flash the strength to push through, following the rising temperature toward his destination. He found his hooves scraping against the smooth floor as he clumsily landed onto a platform lit by a single red glow.
Now landed, he found himself across from a seated orange stallion with a sharp, illuminated horn, with wings that stretched out from his body so far as to be lost in the darkness. Scars of molten fire pumped and crawled across the stallion’s fur, lit by burning flames that grew in place of his mane and tail. It provided warmth in the frigid cold, a beacon of hope at the possibility of completing his mission.
Before Flash could speak, a scream cut through the silence, causing him to stumble.
Prometheus, Patron of the Pegasi, regarded him with eyes of pure fire. “How blessed be this day that another graces us with their presence,” he remarked.
Flash merely stared, unmoving, until Prometheus’ words again dispelled the quiet.
“Come closer.”